


do no harm

by sinequanon



Series: Stiles & Mikaelsons [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Originals (TV)
Genre: All-Knowing Deaton, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Swap, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Finn and Stiles have both been having less than stellar (but surprisingly mirrored) lives recently. A twist of fate puts them into each other’s shoes and gives them the opportunity to beeach other’schampions.(Canon Divergent for season 3 of The Originals; AU for Teen Wolf)





	do no harm

**Author's Note:**

> This one is more Originals-centric than most of my crossovers, and I would say that if you aren’t familiar with season 3 of the Originals (or at least the back half of it), there might be references that confuse you. For those of you who do watch the show, you will know from _exactly_ which point this diverges from canon.
> 
> The ending to this is a bit sappy, in my opinion, but I also didn’t want to drag it out forever.
> 
> Happy reading!

Finn knew that things were over the moment Lucien bit him. Even with Elijah calling Klaus to feed him blood, a part of him knew that it would never work. Niklaus may have bought him some time, might have stopped the hallucinations, but Finn was still going to be left alone in the end.

He tried to concentrate on the touch of the others’ hands upon him, but he could feel himself slipping away even as his siblings clutched him tighter.

 _How ironic_ , he thought. _I hate them, but I still don't want to leave them_.

Everything went white.

<> <>

 _I’ve got to get out of this place before it kills me_.

Honestly, Stiles didn't know why he even bothered anymore. No one seemed to acknowledge his existence outside of school; and even there, no one except Coach Finstock paid any attention to anything he did in class.

The pack certainly didn't seem to want him any longer, if the lack of contact was any indication. They’d always chide him if he didn't sit with them at lunch, but they didn't speak with him when he did. They’d partner up with him in class, but then leave him to do all of the work while they chatted with each other. At one point, Stiles had worried that he’d actually become invisible, until Finstock had pulled him aside after class later that day and asked him if everything was okay. Stiles had visibly startled at the contact, but assured the man that he was fine, although the increasingly concerned looks Coach kept shooting him as the weeks went by suggested that his teacher didn't believe him.

The pack always knew where he was when there was a threat, of course. Derek, Scott, or in one memorable case, Jackson would break into his bedroom demanding assistance for the newest problem of the week. And he would help, because he couldn't in good conscience ignore a problem that he had the power to help solve.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the requests were strictly research-related, but they mostly involved lying to adults (because everyone knew that Stiles was a troublemaker, anyway) or combing through the woods on his own while the wolves did whatever they were doing while Stiles did all of their legwork.

Right now, for example, instead of sitting at home watching television like normal teenager, he was traipsing through the woods, looking for a group of imps for a pack of painfully ungrateful werewolves. He hoped that the others were still looking as well, but it was impossible to tell since he hadn't seen any of them for the past hour. They might have all gone home already, for all he knew.

He heard a chittering sound to his left and turned toward it, only for his foot to get caught in a root on the turn.

His body heaved forward, and his last thought before his head hit the tree was, _Are you kidding me_?

<> <>

Other than Finn’s brief stint as Vincent, Finn Mikaelson had been a vampire for a millennia; trapped as he had been for so long, he understood his body only too well.

As such, even before he opened his eyes, he knew he _wasn't_ in his own body. He took a moment, expecting to hear Freya, or one of the others moving around, but instead he heard...beeping?

What on earth was he doing in a hospital?

There was a man in a police uniform sleeping in a chair next to the bed, and the thought _Dad’s got to be uncomfortable sleeping like that_ entered Finn’s mind before he realized that he had never seen the man before.

He tried to force his eyes to adjust to the light to get a better look at the man, and it took Finn longer than it should have to realize that all of his senses were duller than usual.

Did his siblings save him, only to trap him in a human body? A quick check showed that this body was much younger, and full of energy. Why this body, this boy? What was the purpose? Freya would be the only one of his siblings who could manage a spell like this, but she would never send him away. Right?

The machines started beeping faster as Finn’s agitation grew, and the man in the chair was moving forward even before his eyes were fully open.

“It's okay. It's okay, kiddo. Try to calm down,” the man said lowly, rubbing soothing circles into Finn’s hands. “In and out, just breathe for me.”

Finn found himself following the man’s instructions automatically until he was mostly calm, and the vampire took a moment to bask in the unfamiliar comfort of the stranger before him.

Except, the man wasn't exactly a stranger. Finn knew that he had never seen this man before, yet he knew his name, and how he liked his coffee, and what he looked like when he hadn't been getting enough sleep.

He wanted to fall into this man's arms and never let go, but instead he asked, “What happened?”

His dad frowned, and pulled back with a searching look. “I was hoping that you could tell me. Peter found you in the woods and brought you here. You’ve been out for three days, with that concussion of yours. How are you feeling?”

Finn took a moment, and realized that--other than a dull ache in his head and a few other phantom pains--he felt fine. _Safe_ , like this man would move heaven and earth to protect him. It was a heady feeling.

“I feel strange,” he answered honestly, “but good.”

<> <>

Stiles woke to a throbbing in his neck and raised voices outside his door.

“...I told you,” a female voice said, “I don't know what's happening, but he's almost healed.”

“It's been three days,” another voice hissed, “even with my blood. What is taking so long?”

Normally, Stiles's curiosity would have kept him interested in the admittedly strange conversation, but he was distracted by the fact that everything seemed louder, and brighter, and…he better not be a damn werewolf.

Stiles looked down at his hands to check for claws, only to jolt when he realized that the hands he was looking at weren’t his hands at all, claws or no.

Before he even realized he was moving, he was standing in front of a mirror at the other end of a room he didn't recognize, looking at a face that appeared to be at least a decade older than his but felt much older than that.

Before Stiles had a chance to think about the implications of his discovery, the door opened quietly and a beautiful blonde woman poked her head inside.

 _Freya_ , his brain supplied. _Your sister_.

Freya’s face brightened considerably when she saw that he was up, though she immediately followed that by coming into the room and physically leading him back toward the bed.

“It's good to see you awake,” she said gently, “but you’re not entirely healed. Until we know exactly what Lucien meant to do, you’re not leaving the manor. I’d prefer it if you stayed in bed as well, though I doubt there’s much chance of that.”

There were dozens of questions that Stiles could have, and probably should have, asked at that moment. Instead, he frowned at her and asked, “What happened?”

Freya paused in her adjusting of the blankets and pinned him with a look. “Do you not remember?”

_A forest. Freya and Elijah and...pain…_

“Did they leave?” he asked, trying to listen for his brothers’ voices. Two disparate thoughts went through his brain simultaneously: _I need to be able to explore without interference from the rest of them, and Have they already abandoned me again_?

“Of course not,” she assured him. Misreading his dubious look, she laughed. “Klaus did save you, after all. How are you feeling?”

It was on the tip of Stiles’s tongue to refute that claim, but instead he attempted to use his new senses to learn a little more about his sister.

He could tell there was something about her that was different from him, but whatever sense that had told him that Freya was his sister in the first place evidently didn't have anything more to say on the subject, because Stiles could only feel the faintest prick of magic from her, meaning that she was either very powerful herself, or spent enough time with powerful people that their magic stuck to her skin.

It was incredibly rude to ask people about their magics (not to mention that whoever’s body he was visiting should probably already know the information) so Stiles was either going to have to wait for another flash of insight or do some investigating.

Realizing that she was watching him with concern, and that he hadn't answered her question, he gave her a totally unconvincing, “fine” and patiently listened as she filled him in on the events of the last three days.

<> <>

Finn spent two more days in the hospital for monitoring, but he could already feel echoes of his vampiric healing working on the damage to his head, as well as some other, long-term aches and discomfort that he didn't understand.

The healing should have been impossible, considering that his body was human at the moment, but everything about this situation was impossible, so Finn wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Every so often, Finn would have a burst of insight about Stiles’s life, or feel the stir of the boy’s powers underneath his skin, but he knew with certainty that Stiles wasn't a witch. Whatever the boy was, the blending of their selves should have felt foreign; and yet, as with Stiles’s father, Finn found it easy to accept both the situation and the comfort it provided.

A month later, Finn was still in the body of a teenager, but he had discovered that there was much more to this boy’s life than meets the eye. It hadn't taken him long to notice the werewolves, yet none of them seemed to realize that anything was amiss, even though they frequently sought Stiles out for help.

The vampire knew that Stiles had to be powerful based on their unlikely situation alone. Even if the boy hadn't had anything to do with the spell itself, the fact that he and Stiles had switched bodies--rather than Finn simply displacing Stiles--spoke volumes about his potential for magic. Vincent had survived being displaced by Finn only because he was magically gifted; Kaleb had not been able to do the same after having been replaced by Kol. Not to mention, Finn didn’t simply _know_ enough facts about Stiles’s life, as he had with Vincent, but also experienced the boy’s emotions and his pains.

High school, Finn had found, was a particular torture, but not because of Stiles’s emotions.

For his part, Stiles seemed apathetic about school. He ignored everyone with an ease that would have made Klaus proud, but Finn knew that the apathy had followed a long, hard road of frustration and insecurity. As such, only the thought of keeping Stiles out of trouble kept a surprisingly protective Finn from causing havoc among his peers.

It was yet another reason why Finn couldn't understand why Stiles's friends treated him as they did. Even if Stiles's power had not yet manifested, he was obviously intelligent, driven, and loyal. He was a fighter; yet he had been all but forced to give up the battle to prove his worth.

(One thing was for certain: if Stiles had given up the fight to be heard, Finn would gladly take up the cause for him.)

In nearly three months of living as Stiles, Finn slowly distanced himself from everyone in the pack save Lydia, Liam, and Peter.

Liam, the vampire found, was surprisingly concerned about Stiles’s place in the pack. He increasingly came to Stiles for advice and kept a close eye on the other boy during pack meetings, though he rarely spoke in his defense. The werewolf reminded him, ironically, of Henrik--unsure of his place in a room full of bold personalities--and Finn did his best to help him when he needed it.

Peter was an interesting case as well. It was clear that the man had no interest in harming Stiles--even if he could with Finn in residence--but he watched the young man with an intensity that made the vampire wary. Stiles hadn't known that Peter had gotten out of Eichen House, but based on his conflicted feelings about the man, Finn thought that Stiles might have been secretly pleased that the werewolf had been freed. Finn respected him for the fact that older Hale had been responsible for getting Stiles to the hospital, and for the fact that he frequently distracted the others from taking advantage of Stiles’s resourcefulness with a subtle, intense viciousness that would have made Niklaus proud.

Finn’s first thought when he met Lydia was not of Rebekah, but Elijah. Both his brother and the banshee used their clothes to hide their soft underbellies from prying eyes; although Elijah didn't hide his intelligence as Lydia did, his brother tempered his emotions to such an extent that many assumed he was as cold as Klaus was hot.

Both were also more perceptive than people gave them credit for, so Finn was unsurprised when the girl eventually sought him out one Saturday to interrogate him under the guise of going out for coffee.

The banshee searched his face for almost a full minute while Finn merely sipped at his drink. When he patiently watched her instead of giving in to his silent demands, she scowled at him. “Why do you feel like death, Stiles? You obviously don't smell like it, or the wolves would have mentioned it. So what's going on?”

“I'm not sure why you think it's your business,” he said, ignoring her gasp of outrage, “but if you’d like to be helpful, stop treating me like a pariah.”

Her eyes softened. “We just want you to be safe, and get better. We’ve been trying to give you time.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course, except for when you need something. Yet no one seems to care about what I want,” he added flatly, tossing his trash away and walking out the door without looking back at her.

As for the others, while it was true that they did not dislike Stiles, they unconsciously distrusted and neglected him to the point where his life had been repeatedly threatened, and that was unacceptable in a friendship, let alone in the “family” that Scott and Derek claimed to have.

Things came to a head the night that they discovered the naga.

“Stiles can grab the eggs while the rest of us fight the monster--” Scott was saying when Finn cut in.

“No,” he announced.

“What?” Scott asked.

“For as often as you like to complain that I need to be protected, you do like to send me out alone in the dark a lot, don't you think?”

Scott looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “What?”

“I understand that the nogitsune was horrible, and Theo tricked everyone, but you can't back me into a corner and still expect me to do whatever you want. Anyone who’s done any sort of research on the naga,” he broke off to glare at the room, because only Liam and Peter had done the necessary reading,” would know that they will fight to the death for their eggs, so as soon as I grab them, all of those monsters will be coming after me. And frankly, I don't trust that you're going to help me anymore; I'm likely to end up with a nest of naga after me and no assistance from you. I've decided you can help yourselves, for once.”

With the pack gaping behind him, Finn went to Deaton’s, who was waiting at the door for him when he arrived.

“Ms. Martin has been a frequent visitor as of late,” the man offered with a tiny smile as soon as they were settled. “You confound her banshee senses, I believe.”

The part of Finn that was in tune with Stiles felt the word _good_ float through his mind, and he smiled.

Deaton must have seen something on Finn’s face, because he sighed when the vampire’s eyes flicked back to him. “I know they’ve handled it poorly, but their intentions were good. They tried to give Mr. Stilinski the space he needed to heal, only to put too much space between them.”

“How do I fix it?”

“No offense, Mr. Mikaelson, but I'm not sure _you_ can.”

“Then why am I here? I'm very familiar with broken families, Dr. Deaton. I don't want Stiles to suffer the same fate.”

The druid considered the vampire for a long moment. “The way I understand it, you've been essentially acting as Stiles’s mouthpiece, correct? Speaking of the things he's kept hidden? Airing grievances on his behalf?” At Finn’s nod, he added thoughtfully, “perhaps that's precisely what you’re supposed to do, is help him continue on that path.”

<> <>

A month into Stiles’s stay in the Mikaelson mansion had taught him two undisputed truths about the family: one, they couldn't go a week without killing each other, sometimes literally; and two, they collected grudges like other people collected art or wine.

It was ludicrous that a group of thousand-year-old vampires managed to remember seemingly every slight ever made against them and respond with force. He knew that being a vampire magnified emotions, but did it also turn people into cranky toddlers incapable of controlling themselves?

Every corner held someone who irritated Kol or offended Klaus, or just wanted to kill the whole family on principle. There were so many plots brewing at any given time that Stiles had started a spreadsheet just to keep track of them all. He worked behind the scenes as much as possible to minimize the damage, but the fact that Finn was well-known as a Mikaelson only made things more difficult.

Over the next few weeks, Freya frequently pulled everyone together for meals with mixed results, while Elijah pulled them together to decide on a course of action against Lucien and Aurora. Stiles forced himself to temper his ideas (Finn was a much more methodical planner than Stiles), but it hardly mattered when Niklaus and Kol both refused to listen to any of them.

Stiles's only saving grace was the flicker of his spark every so often in his chest. He had no idea _why_ he could feel it sometimes, but it comforted him when he started to think that fixing the relationship between the Mikaelson brothers was an impossible goal. No matter how often he held his tongue and let his brothers speak, no matter how often he tried to be helpful, he never seemed to gain any ground.

Stiles knew that his abilities were rooted in belief, and he was definitely counting on the power of belief right now. He believed that things were going to get better for the Mikaelsons; that he could help them be happier as a family. He knew just like they did how much it hurt to lose a family member; he just needed more than Freya to learn to forgive. After all, Finn had just as much right to be angry with them as they did with him, probably more; they just needed to get past their personal grudges to see it.

There were times when the echoes of Finn's pain--the depression and the loneliness--nearly brought him to his knees. But while Elijah was making a concerted effort to connect with his older brother, both Klaus and Kol wavered between being grudgingly accepting of Finn and throwing past wrongs in his face.

Stiles used their animosity as an excuse to explore every inch of New Orleans that was open to him, as well as some that weren't. It was during one of his restless walks--an old argument with Niklaus ringing in his ears--that he came across Vincent.

Stiles didn't object when Vincent joined him on his walk, or when he followed him into a small restaurant along the way. In fact, the two of them exchanged nothing more than small talk until they were waiting for dessert.

“Who are you?” Vincent finally asked, “and do the other Mikaelsons know about you?”

Stiles smirked at him. “Only Finn,” he said cheekily.

“Is he dead?”

“No, though not for lack of trying on Lucien’s part.” Stiles paused. “I'm Stiles.”

“Pardon me for asking, but what _are_ you?”

“Just a guy with a little spark and a lot of imagination,” he said, using the magic in him to block out the noise from the rest of the restaurant.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Vincent asked, eyes wide. “I didn't hear a spell.”

Stiles gave the witch a self-deprecating smile. “No spell, just willpower and trial-and-error. There are some suspicious gauges and scorch marks in my bedroom that I'm hiding from my dad.” He took in Vincent’s disbelieving look and frowned. “Look, I don't know why I'm here now, but I won't be here forever, so I'm doing my best to have Finn’s siblings be slightly less murderous toward him and make a plan to deal with Lucien if he shows up again.”

Vincent didn't look entirely convinced, but he also didn't go running to the others, so Stiles counted the conversation as successful.

Things came to a head for Stiles a week later, the day after a spectacular fight with Kol that left both Klaus and Elijah holding Kol back and Stiles pretending to let Freya calm him down. There was something seriously wrong here--more than just Kol being upset about his death--but Stiles didn't trust Davina and was unwilling to pull Vincent into the middle of the mess.

(If Stiles hadn't known for a fact that the nogitsune was safe inside the rowan box, Stiles would have thought that Kol had somehow gotten into it. It wouldn't have been any more surprising than the box suddenly showing up in the mansion just when Stiles was running out of ideas about how to deal with Lucien, or the fact that the nogitsune was constantly whispering to Stiles, promising to spare his friends if Stiles would just let him out.)

Stiles couldn't help but make comparisons between Finn and the nogitsune, how they had both been tricked ( _betrayed_ ) and trapped, and the thought of releasing the fox spirit in New Orleans on the vampire's behalf crossed his mind more than once. As it was, everyone in town could feel the power of the box--even without knowing what was in it--and avoided it accordingly.

Except for Kol, who saw it as evidence that Finn was plotting against the rest of the family and resolved to take it from him.

If Klaus hadn't warned him that Kol was on a rampage, he might never have gotten back to his room in time, even with vampiric speed. As it was, he barely noticed the others following him as he raced through the house to stop Kol before his little brother did something monumentally stupid.

Thankfully, Stiles had just enough spark in him to keep the box firmly shut, even as Kol tried to pry it open.

Be very careful with that box, brother,” he said. “There's a demon inside.”

“A friend of yours, then?” Kol sneered, though he stopped trying to open the box.

“We have an understanding, he and I,” Stiles began, even as he felt a wave of concern from Finn, “but that's between the two ( _three_ ) of us.”

“And how long before you turn on us this time, brother?”

Stiles knew it wasn't an unreasonable assumption, but it made him see red. “Don't attempt to assuage your own guilt for what you did to me,” Stiles bit out. “God forbid any of you actually attempt to have an adult conversation.”

“Excuse me?” Kol said incredulously. “You cursed me to die, rather painfully, or did you manage to forget that part?”

“So you suffered for a few weeks,” Stiles shrugged, though he didn't dare stop staring into his brother’s eyes. He needed them to understand, especially if Lucien was as powerful as Stiles suspected. “ _Trust me_. Being alone, trapped inside your own head, unable to control your own body, it eats at you in a way that never really goes away.” He finally turned looked at his other brothers. “Even after it's over, all it takes is the wrong memory, and suddenly it's like falling into that pit all over again. Frankly, you're lucky I'm not crazier.”

“And how did that turn out for you?” brother Klaus drawled, ignoring Elijah's warning hand on his arm.

“I tried to protect us, to not be like Father, and you left me with nothing but my thoughts and your contempt for centuries! As if your way is any better, slaughtering your way through the years. Why did you even bother to save me when you so obviously want me dead?”

The silence that followed went on for far too long, but the looks he received were more thoughtful and less homicidal, so Stiles let it stand.

“You're family,” Klaus said finally from his place by the door, his eyes daring Finn to disagree.

“Well, then, family,” Stiles answered, motioning for everyone to sit, “I have an insanely simple idea for how to deal with Lucien, at least for now.”

<> <>

Only a week later, Lucien reappeared in New Orleans, ostensibly to deal with the remaining Mikaelsons, but also to find out more about a box that had even the ancestors concerned.

Finn would kill him if he found out that Stiles had met Lucien (and more than one of his siblings had objected as well), but he just _had_ to see the look on that pretentious bastard’s face when he realized that Finn was still alive. The sight of the man’s eyes bugging out of his head was totally worth any grief he’d get later.

“You should be dead,” Lucien breathed as he caught sight of Stiles. “There is no cure for my bite. I made sure of it.”

Stiles avoided everyone's suddenly calculating stares and shrugged. “I’ve never been very good at doing what people tell me to do,” he quipped wryly. He stepped forward until the two of them were mere inches apart, confident that the other vampire wouldn't attack him, and whispered into the other man’s ear. “If you ever come near this family again, you're going to find out exactly what's inside that box.”

Stiles pulled back to watch the shock and fear flash across Lucien’s face before he whirled around, grabbed Aurora by the hand, and marched to the door. “I'm going to have my revenge,” he snarled, glaring at Stiles. “And not even you are going to be able to stop me.”

Stiles swallowed back the very-not-Finn quip on the tip of his tongue. “We’ll see,” he said instead.

(It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes once he was sure no one was looking.)

<> <>

In the same way that the two men would never know exactly how they had switched places, they never understood what made them switch back, either.

Later, Deaton and Vincent would talk about souls, fate and resonance and energy, but Finn couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when he woke up in his own body a hundred days after he had first found himself in California, and felt an echo of disappointment from Stiles as well.

By silent, mutual agreement, the two of them resolved to meet again after everything had been settled in their own lives.

<> <>

This was not normally the type of event that the Mikaelsons would frequent, but Finn had been strangely insistent that they try to make allies, especially considering all of the drama with Lucien and Aurora the year before. There were packs and solitary practitioners from around the country packed into the ballroom, mingling, hoping to make advantageous connections, but the Mikaelsons stayed in one spot and waited to see who would come to _them_.

A few curious and brave souls attempted to make conversation, but most were run off fairly quickly by either Niklaus or Rebekah. Finn payed vague attention to them, but kept his senses focused on finding one particular group of people.

Almost two hours into the night, Finn was beginning to worry that he had been given faulty information, and that the pack wouldn't be coming; or that some supernatural disaster or another had kept them at home.

Vincent had obviously been keeping an eye out as well, because halfway through the night he caught Finn’s eye and nodded to where Scott and Isaac were chatting with one of Marcel’s vampires. He couldn't see Stiles, but, now that he focused, he could _feel_ him somewhere in the room.

Not ten minutes later, it was not Stiles, but Lydia that broke through the crowd, a look of confused determination on her face. She stopped dead when she caught sight of his family, and then zeroed in on him.

Finn could see the exact moment she understood what her banshee senses were telling her, because she let out a soft, “oh,” squared her shoulders, and started marching toward the Mikaelsons with a purpose.

(Finn was probably grinning like a loon, if the incredulous looks on his siblings’ faces were any indication, but he couldn't have cared less. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her until now.)

She completely ignored the rest of his family—and what Finn wouldn’t have given to capture the looks of _their_ faces in this moment—before stopping in front of him and giving him a critical once-over before she held out her hand.

“Lydia Martin, Beacon Hills pack. And you are?”

“Finn Mikaelson, Original vampire.”

The two of them exchanged sly smiles. “Have you ever been to California, Mr. Mikaelson?” Lydia asked sweetly.

“Not physically, no.”

“Hmm. Introduce me to your family?”

He gladly did so, and after a few minutes of small talk, it was clear that his siblings were very much impressed with Lydia, even if they couldn’t figure out the connection between their brother and the banshee.

“Just so you know, the two of you will be sitting down with me in the near future and answering all of my questions,” Lydia exclaimed as they finished their conversation. “Stiles is working his way over here, I'm sure, but he got waylaid almost as soon as we walked in the doors. If I see him, I'll rescue him and send him in your direction.”

“Is this ‘Stiles’ the reason we’re here, brother?” Elijah asked.

You know how I dislike strangers,” Klaus added.

The fond smile that lit up Finn’s face both surprised his siblings and made the man look years younger. “I think you’ll like him quite well,” he told them slyly, “and I imagine that you’ll find that it almost feels like you already know him.”

(Whatever the Original siblings were picturing as Finn spoke of Stiles, it definitely wasn't the lithe, slightly bookish young man that appeared through the crowd minutes later.)

Stiles took them each in with a seriousness that they all felt, coming to a stop just as Lydia had in front of Finn.

The rest of the Mikaelsons stilled.

“I was beginning to think you weren't coming.” Finn commented, keeping his hands at his sides through pure force of will.

Stiles, who had never been as stoic as the vampire, openly grinned. “Are you kidding? Like anyone is going to go against Lydia? I like all my body parts as is, thanks.”

“What kept you?”

“There was an incident on the way here,” he grimaced. “Scott promised me I got it all, but I'm pretty sure I still have pixie guts in my hair.”

“I can't smell anything,” Rebekah offered blandly, shooting her brother an inquisitive look. She was the only one who hadn’t been there after the incident and had never met Stiles.

Finn made introductions, which morphed into awkward small talk as each of the Mikaelsons tried to figure out what it was about Stiles that put them on edge, and why their eldest brother was so interested in him.

“You know what?” Stiles said after yet _another_ leading question from Klaus, “I was going to--” he made an aborted movement toward Finn. “Screw it,” he growled, and pulled Finn in for a hug.

The vampire’s arms came up automatically to hold Stiles, and both of them relaxed into the embrace. At the same time, everyone else connected to the two men through the swap felt an echo of what they felt--affection, curiosity, joy--as though they were the ones being hugged.

By the time they pulled apart, the pack had wandered over and everyone was staring at them with wide eyes.

“What was that?”

Finn placed a guiding hand to Stiles’s shoulder and addressed the group. “About a year ago, Stiles and I saved each other's lives and then lived them for a while. He's just as important to me as any of my other brothers, although I think you know that now.”

“How? Why?”

The two men glanced at each other and shrugged.

“Magic.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Sonnet 94: “They that have power to hurt and will do none” by William Shakespeare.
> 
> I’ve always felt bad for Finn, and I wasn’t at all surprised by his reasoning when he and Elijah had their chat. The episode was appropriately dramatic, of course, but I felt bad for the guy and wanted to give him a happier ending.
> 
> Next week: The last smaller Stiles/Originals fic and the next part in my Stiles/Avengers series.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
